


thunder and lightning

by alexcz



Series: Elemental [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Sburb, hahahahHAHAHAHA, hahahahahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:30:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexcz/pseuds/alexcz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dave is awake at 2am, the bed is otherwise empty, and it's raining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thunder and lightning

**Author's Note:**

> this is a thing I wrote for some nerds

Its a Sunday and Dave is tired, twenty three, tolerant, and probably at least six other adjectives that start with the letter t. But the apartment is quiet, which is something hes grown accustomed to it not being as of late. Things were never quiet. John moved in with him five months ago, and had agreed to be his boyfriend two years and four months before that. Things had been nice. To say the least. Which Dave sometimes tended to do when he was actually faced with a situation that he couldn't trust himself enough with to attempt to put into words laced with abstract adjectives, metaphors, and metaphors for those metaphors. John had a tendency to be involved with most of those situations. Dave didn't mind as much as it may have seemed.

The quiet was suddenly shattered extremely rudely by something that wasn't a noise yet, but soon would be. The room was dark, but the flash of lightning lit it up for a fraction or three of a second before lapsing into darkness again. Thunder rumbled in an infamous late reaction soon after. Dave wasn't sure if the power was out or if the lights were out for it being night time, but he stares at the ceiling silently as if waiting for it to answer his internal questions, but it doesn't. He guesses it's around two in the morning. Dave is hardly ever wrong.

The emptiness of the bed space beside him is what prompted him to get up out of bed and throw a sweater that had been draped haphazardly on the back of his desk chair over his head and shuffling out of the room with a lazy hum. His feet pad carefully over carpet, one hand sliding along the face of the wall beside him to lead him through the dark hallway, until he stops when the wall gives way to the entrance of the main room. It's darker yet in here. The curtains are always closed at night. Except tonight, apparently, as only one is open. A few more flashes of lightning fill the room in quick succession, and the stark light outlines what Dave recognizes shortly after as the one loveseat they owned pushed away from its usual spot against the wall to be right up near the window, the one that conveniently had the curtain pushed to the side.

Dave approaches quietly, until he's standing just behind it, and he can see the top of John's head from over the back. He has his elbow propped on the arm rest, pressing his cheek into his hand and staring straight into the darkness, seemingly unaware to Dave being in the room. Dave sniffs quietly, trying to alert the other to his presence without scaring him, and it works for the most part. John shifts, his movements slow, small, lethargic, wait lethargic doesn't start with s..

His thoughts are cut off when John manages to tilt his head back enough to look up at him, and the attempt at a smile on his lips is small and bordering on pitiful. Dave rests his hand on John's left shoulder, but the lack of response is almost intimidating. John instead turns his gaze back to the window, the images of the outside world framed by metal panes distorted as rain runs in rivulets down the glass. The look on John's face is something that Dave finds himself struggling to understand. It's almost reminiscent.

Dave asks him what he's thinking about, or at least he thinks he does, and it takes seven minutes and thirteen seconds of silence before Dave opens his mouth to ask again before John answers, so quietly that the thunder that rumbles just after nearly drowns his voice out. He tells Dave he doesn't know.

Dave finds this hard to believe, as behaviour like this from John was out of the ordinary anyways, but he doesn't push the subject. If John was going to talk, he would in due time. He knew he was thinking.

His predictions come true, twenty one minutes and forty eight seconds later, when John's right hand comes up to rest on top of Dave's fingers still lingering on his shoulder. He says he feels like he should remember something that hasn't happened yet. He says it's like feeling nostalgic for something he's never had. Dave's thoughts buzz through his head as he tries to understand, but he comes up short.

His hand squeezes John's shoulder as if trying to silently convey his muddled understanding, but John's quiet exhale is enough to let him know that he wasnt expected to understand. John is glad Dave is with him.

He tries to show this by slipping his fingers underneath Dave's, giving a gentle tug to attempt to lead him to sit with him. Dave easily complies, squeezing around so that he can sit on John's right side. John shifts again, this time to turn himself towards Dave's warmth, curling into his side, his head on his shoulder. Dave reacts similarly, arms winding around John to hold him close, weaving kisses into his hair and whispering senseless, white-noise thoughts and comforts that were lost with the wind howling by the windows, together staring out at the blurry, darkened cityscape on Sunday morning.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading ily guys


End file.
